


you are my biorhythm

by schadenfreudes



Series: our synergy amplifies [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gang Culture, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but there's violence just saying, descriptions of violence but nothing too graphic, hitman!minghao, mafia culture, morally ambiguous minghao, recruiter!junhui
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9101443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schadenfreudes/pseuds/schadenfreudes
Summary: “What do you want, Seo Myungho? What do we have to give you to join?" he asks resolutely."What I want doesn't matter. It's been that way my whole life. I don't want anything from you."Junhui cocks his head curiously, "Everyone wants something. Surely even you do.""Well, when I figure it out," his tone sarcastic, "You'll be the first to know." Minghao says, already dismantling his sniper.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here it iiis i love my boi minghao  
> the tone of the first few chapters will be a bit dark and won't match the prologue much so im sorry in advance 4 the hurt  
> also this chapter is set a few weeks before the prologue so i hope that doesn't get too confusing? it's all going to tie up later on don't worry,,

**[Shinchon, Seoul; 2:13 AM]**

  
"You're up." Minghao hears the directions come through from his earpiece. He hitches his bomber jacket higher up on his shoulders, feeling the slightest chill in the autumn air.

  
He peers at the viewfinder and angles the sniper at the target, waiting for further instruction.  
  
A beat passes.  
  
"Fire."  
  
He pulls the trigger and shoots twice.  
  
The shots ring in his ears, soundwaves moving in sync with the hammering beat of his pulse. Quickly, he unmounts the sniper and with practiced hands, dismantles it, throwing all of the pieces into a duffle bag.

He ducks behind the rooftop gutter and crouches all the way to the doorway, making for his assigned escape route. He rips off his earpiece, puts his baseball cap on and adjusts the strap of his bag against his shoulder.  
  
Moving swiftly, he makes his way onto the dimly lit streets, drowning his figure into the shadows.  
  
Later on, he finds himself sitting on the banks of the Han River, watching the deep blue of the water reflect the city lights above. He blinks and tries to imprint the scene into his mind, tries not to think about crimson red blooming stark against a crisp white shirt. Remembering the unmistakable sound of the bullets clipping skin and bones make his ears cringe. 

He gazes up at a starless sky and closes his eyes.

 _Three more months_ , he thought with dread. He takes his red butterfly knife out of his pocket and absentmindedly plays with it, wondering if there were other places to go or things to do. Wondering if there was any other way out of this kind of life.

 

* * *

 

_“Haohao! Hurry up in there, it’s time to go to school!” his mother calls from the living room._

_He’s ten years old, brushing his teeth and zipping up his jacket, getting ready for school. He’s ten years old and life is made up of school and b-boying and his mother’s smile when his father holds her hand._

_It was a clear day like any other. He leaves for school with both of his parents, dropping him off and greeting him a goodbye. Minghao waves at them from the sidewalk, smiling. He watches their car go, without knowing it was the last time._

_Class is boring; he spends more time staring at the particles of dust floating in the light that peeks through the windows than actually listening to his teacher droning on about formulas and theorems._  

_It’s almost recess and he’s excited at the thought of playing with his friends and laughing together with them, when the classroom door opens. The entire class looks up at their homeroom teacher murmuring quietly but urgently to the Arithmetic teacher who was currently in-charge._

_“Xu Minghao,” his teacher called out gravely. He gets pulled out of class and his homeroom teacher holds both of his hands tightly. “There’s been an accident.”_  

_She tells him, and suddenly everything is spinning. His center of gravity shifts out of place, and he’s kicking and screaming until his throat is raw. An accident. How could he lose something so precious to something as pathetic as an accident?_

_How could he lose something so precious at all?_

_Anger, sadness and helplessness simultaneously surge through his veins, when he never even knew he was capable of feeling all three at the same time. The universe must have hated him to be so cruel, he thought._

_Suddenly, there was a glass wall between him and the world. Hushed whispers of comfort and questions of “what happens now?” were all muted by the pain of his loss. His teacher holds him, the action doing nothing but make the tightening in his chest worse._

_Everything that happened after the funeral was a blur. He vaguely remembers countless people; family and friends, trying to console him, and yet all of their words were lost to him. Numbness filled his little ten-year old chest up._

_He remembers the unstable living arrangements between distant relatives and family friends, forcing him to hop back and forth from house to house. He remembers trying to feel normalcy at school but being denied even that by the patronizing looks from his classmates. They all treated him decently but the fact still stood that at the end of the day, no one wanted to deal with the broken kid._

_By the fifth month, his uncle pulls him out of school and has him living with him temporarily._

_One day, his uncle picks up a framed photo of a group of men and women in suits from a dresser in the living room. He gestures for Minghao to sit beside him on the couch and shows him the picture._

_“This is the Triad,” his uncle says, motioning to the photo. “Well one of the gangs that make it up, at least. Our family has strong connections to them, but your father never wanted you to know until you were older. They’re going to be the ones taking care of you from now on. You’ll be an uninitiated member until you turn legal.”_

_Organized crime, he learns. Their family had ties to one of the biggest crime rings in the world, and as the son of one of their members, he would be taken care of at least until he was legal._

_“We’re going to one of their bases so you can settle with them instead. Pack your things. We’ll be leaving for Hong Kong in the morning.”_

_Hong Kong is vibrant, he decides. During the day it was a stewing pot of different people from different walks of life. At night its streets were illuminated with neon incandescence, and it reminds him of old films he’s watched with his parents._

_They walk along an apartment block, and his uncle leads him into one of the buildings. He watches as his uncle greets the people inside, making their way to a common area where he sees more people in the middle of the room gathered around a game of cards._

_“Dragon,” his uncle calls. The man who sits in the center, emanating a tangible presence looks up from their game. He dressed like an average businessman, but gave the impression of a powerful one._

_“This is my nephew, Xu Minghao.”_

_“Bring him to me.” the voice was authoritative, in control of the world around him._

_His uncle pats him on the back and urges him forward. Minghao carefully walks over to the Dragon and stands in front of him, bowing in place. Though still seated, his posture remains powerful, and Minghao feels small before him._

_The Dragon observes him, tilting his chin up and staring him right in the eyes._

_“In this triad, I only value those who make themselves useful. Tell me, Xu Minghao, how can you be useful to me? What is your value?”_  

**_-_ **

_He’s eleven years old when he first learns how to kill. Something done in order to prove himself to the Dragon. His first target was a fox, one similar to the characters he’d find in his old children’s books. He cries into his pillow that night, dreaming of blood and the sound of a gunshot. His uncle buys him a butterfly knife to reward him for his courage._

_Life went on. Chores made up most of his day when he wasn’t preoccupied with learning the ropes of how the gang functioned. He continues training in wushu and other martial arts, trying to distract himself from the hollow feeling of loneliness in his chest. His uncle would visit him sometimes to check up on him, but never bothered to stay more than a day._

_Days, weeks, months went by and suddenly, talk of abroad was circulating around, with Minghao catching his name in one of the conversations._

_“Where are they sending me, uncle?”_

_“They’re sending you to Korea where they’re establishing a new branch. No matter what happens there, Minghao, you have to promise me that you’ll do as you’re told.”_

_“But what if they want me to do bad things?”_

_“That doesn’t matter now. Worse things will happen to you if you disobey them. You’re safe with them as long as you do what they say, understand?”_

_They continue his training in Korea, with weaponry this time, and also give him lessons to learn the language. He struggles a little bit but manages to get better with time._

_They first send him to run errands at thirteen. Of course, since this was organized crime, “running errands” for him meant delivering weapons and drugs back and forth to their respective dealers. He was quick and nifty around the streets, having studied the routes very thoroughly, so that no one really suspected him._

_He never actively engages in fights and only uses his skills in self-defense, in case anybody tried to extort him or get him to give out more for less. The first time he has to use a knife on someone, they ended up in a hospital ward for five days due to profuse bleeding._

_His first hitman job was assigned to him at fifteen. From then on he began to dread the feeling of being on a rooftop, watching over his targets as if he were some god, deciding when they get to live or die._

_Years of violence have shaped him into becoming indifferent and one day he woke up and he no longer was the starry-eyed ambitious kid from his childhood._

_Currently there were only three months left until his 20th birthday. Once he turns legal he’s going to willingly take an oath that will bind him to the gang for the rest of his life, and he would continue on like this forever. Unless he found something better, that was._

 

* * *

 

**[Gangnam District, Seoul 2:45 PM]**

 

In the middle of making a delivery to a dealer, Minghao feels like he’s being followed. He looks behind him at the busy street and sure enough, sees three people almost tailing him. 

He knows what this is. A rivalling gang must have sent their goons after him to make out a message; and a bloody one at that.

He turns a corner and leads them into a dead end alley. He turns around and faces the three of them. Each of them had a bulky build and several tattoos on their arms. One of them was holding a wooden bat and the other two had knives.

They move closer to him and he sighs, slightly irritated thinking about how much time fighting all of them is going to take. The first man attacks with the bat and Minghao dodges easily, tripping him and delivering a kick to his back. The man falls over onto a pile of metal cans.

Using the time he has while the first guy is knocked over, he fishes for his butterfly knife in his pocket and unfolds it skillfully, facing the other two goons.

“He’s mine,” he hears the second guy say and the third guy nods and moves back to make way for them.

He holds up his arm to block himself in defense and charges toward the second guy. Their knives collide with the unmistakable teeth-grinding screech of metal. Minghao pushes force onto his opponent’s knife and moves the hand currently blocking himself to punch his gut. His opponent reels backwards and he uses the momentum to crouch down and use his leg to strike the back of his knee. The second guy falls to the ground unevenly with his weight pushing down on his leg and snapping a bone.

Minghao makes his way to deal with the third goon, however, forgetting about the first one. He feels a strong blow from the baseball bat on his right side and winces in pain but grabs ahold of the bat, using it as leverage to unbalance the first guy. He drives it into the guy’s chest and it holds his weight. Holding onto it tightly, he performs a backflip, giving the guy a solid kick in the face, knocking him unconscious as he lands on the ground.

The third goon jabs at him with his switchblade, but Minghao dodges with precision, calculating his opponent’s movements. They spar evenly until he sees an opening in his opponent’s stance, knocking the blade out of his hand quite effortlessly. Reduced to his fists, he continues to jab at Minghao, but Minghao moves backwards, and balancing himself on the pavement, performs a sweeping kick that completely knocks the opponent off his feet. His head hits the pavement and is knocked out immediately.

Minghao catches his breath and tries to gather himself. His breath hitches as he pokes at the tender spot on his side left by the baseball bat. There would definitely be a bruise under his shirt when he checks on it later.  He checks time on his watch. _Shit_ , he thought, _I’m five minutes late._ He checks the inside pocket of his coat, making sure the package was still intact.  

Minghao looks up and is about to make his way back to the main streets, when from the open end of the alley, he sees a young man in a black baseball cap watching him. He didn’t seem to be part of the gang that attacked him as there were no tattoos visible on him. But what unnerved him was that he didn’t seem like a normal passerby either. The young man looked at him like he saw everything but would promise to treat it as a secret between them if he asked. Like they were sharing some inside joke, only with him not knowing the punchline.

The stranger nods at him in greeting and turns to leave. He processes this for another second before remembering that he was already running late. Quickly, he rushes along the main street and finds his way back to his original route.

 

* * *

 

**[Base 17, Gangnam District 3:56 PM]**

 

Junhui enters the workroom and walks over to Jihoon’s desk, playing him a video on his tablet. "Jihoon, I need you to run a file on this person." He waits for a clear angle on the person’s face and hits pause, enlarging it for Jihoon to see.

Jihoon swipes the image from the tablet outwards and it appears on his computer screen. He runs up a facial recognition scan and goes over the data results. Jihoon addresses Junhui questioningly. “I don’t recall HQ mentioning anything about the triad base here. What do you need the data on him for?”

Junhui smiles, “Recruitment.”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii here's chapter 2 ,,i really did mean to post this sooner but some personal stuff got in the way;; hope you enjoy!!

**[Base 17, 3:57 PM]**

 

Wen Junhui knew a good thing when he saw it. As Base 17’s trainer and recruiter, it was a given that he had to have a good eye for detail. Analyzing fights made the gears turn in his head and he makes estimations, calculations, strategies for each player in the game. It was also something of a skill to be able to analyze a person’s abilities, strengths and weaknesses while watching them in combat. A skill that Junhui happened to possess.

He found that people were at their most beautiful in action. A fighter’s match between two persons was far more interesting to him than any portrait hung up in a gallery. In fights, he saw the full capabilities of the human body, saw its vulnerabilities, its persistence, and everything that made it possible for someone to get up when knocked down. And he respected this as an art.

He saw that in each fighter burned a fire of violence; scorchingly hot in some, and highly subdued in others. Only in certain people, however did he see the stubbornness to give up a fight, and the determination to succeed at all costs. He saw it in Seungcheol, whose years of training and expertise made it practically impossible for him to bow to an opponent. In Jisoo, who was charming and graceful one day but could also be mercilessly violent the next. In Chan, whose energy was as bright and unrestrained as a fireball. Even in Mingyu who, for all that height, was about as intimidating as a very large golden retriever. But most recently, he saw it in that boy from the alley. Wen Junhui knew a good thing when he saw it. And that boy–he was a good thing.

Which was why it was in his resolve to convince Jihoon of this as well.

"Recruitment?" Jihoon asks, heavily confused. "For what position? We have enough field agents, mind you."  
  
Junhui shrugs and paces behind his chair, "Comms? Physical assistance? I don't know but trust me, he's worth it. Help me recruit him."  
  
A silence falls over the both of them as they study what little was on the person's file on the screen.

Seo Myungho

Triad associate

11\. 07. 1997

"Okay but why him? He's triad. He's part of one of the largest crime rings in the world. What if he turns against us and uses us for intel? What's so special about him that you want to compromise both our base and database?" 

"Yeah but, okay, this one can really fight. You should have seen him in person, Jihoon. I almost shat my pants watching him take on those goons. It was like streetfighter on amphetamines."  
  
Jihoon gives him a bored look that asks him to get to the point.

"He may be an asset to our base. Think about it, if we can bring him over to our side and make him stay, it would be doubling, even tripling our manpower."

 "Tripling? He's  _that_ good?" Jihoon asks in disbelief and Junhui nods sincerely.

He thinks it over, intrigued by this knowledge, but then hesitates. “I still think this is too risky.”

“Yeah but the greater the risk, the higher the reward, right? Besides, he's not a full member yet. I know how triads work and if the information on this file is correct, then he must still be uninitiated."

Jihoon considers this. It's not that he didn't trust Junhui; the complete opposite, in fact. He trusts him, knows when he's confident about a recruit's success rate, and would do whatever it takes to assist him on recruit missions. None of his recruits have disappointed in the field after all (although some of them did have questionable hygiene, Read: Kim Mingyu). It’s just that there were so many risks that came with this one, risks that may put the entire base at threat.

But he _was_ Junhui, and this _was_ Base 17 after all. Surely they could take the necessary precautions without fail.

“Alright fine. But we need to be careful around this one. Can’t have HQ after our asses if this fails. Also you have to be the one to talk to Seungcheol hyung about this when he gets back from his mission with Jisoo hyung.”

"Leave it all to me. I'll take care of this recruitment." he says and Jihoon nods, turning back to his screen.

“By the way,” Junhui pipes up five seconds later, face reddening and avoiding eye contact. “Uh, canyoutrackhisroute.”

"What did you say." Jihoon dares him.  
  
"I said," he coughs, eyes darting around. "Can you track his route?”  
  
"Shit, why didn't you do that yourself?" Jihoon gives him the most annoyed look in the world. Tracking someone down and hacking city surveillance definitely wasn’t a walk in the park.

"Forgive. My ass was too busy watching a guy's ankle twist and snap from his own weight."  
  
Jihoon narrows his eyes. "This better not be you having a crush. God knows how much this base has to deal with Soonyoung and Seokmin's flirting already. I swear, Wen Junhui, if this is just some hidden agenda for your thirst-”

"How little faith you have in me." Junhui puts a hand on his chest, mocking offense. “Just trust me babe.”

"That's what they all say." Jihoon states in disinterest already turning back around in his chair. Junhui waves a hand in dismissal and turns to leave his workroom.  

(Later on, if he mulls over the possibility of a crush, then he decides that Jihoon doesn’t need to know.)

 

* * *

  
  
Minghao knows he's being followed. the itching feeling of someone watching him was unmistakable. It was heavy on his back, as if the observer’s gaze held a great weight. He knew they were tracking his movements and have been on his back for an estimate of the past 2 weeks. He felt it during delivery runs and even once when he was taking out a target, supposedly at his most concealed state. Whoever was following him was doing a great job however, as he still has no clue what they looked like. It was certainly odd, but Minghao was in no position to question it since no engagement had been made anyway. Surely anyone who meant harm would have attacked by now, just from how they would have studied his route already. It might just be older triad members monitoring him on the last few months before his initiation ceremony.

So he carries on, making deliveries back and forth as per usual.

For some reason, deliveries calmed him more than he would care to admit. It was certainly better than the alternative of waiting around in a rooftop with a sniper, at least. Deliveries were a mix of fresh air and different people. To Minghao, they were for thinking about his language lessons or remembering a funny thing he saw that day or visiting memories that were untainted with blood. When he was working on deliveries, sometimes he’d liked to pretend he was just a normal kid, mindlessly walking along different districts of Seoul, about to meet up with his friends in the next corner. But that corner comes, and his friends aren’t there. Nor are they in the next one, or the one after that. And he goes back to being the mafia’s pack mule, delivering illegal items to one buyer after the other.

It's another week or so of this when suddenly, instructions for a target come in for him, and he's told that this one was apparently a special case. Usually when he took out targets, they’d be gang enemies or people who didn’t pay their dues. This one however was a special request. He’s told that someone called in and paid for the organization to take out a target. It was oddly specific and bordering on suspicious, but they were orders so he had no choice but to follow.

Which is how Thursday night finds Minghao on another rooftop, poised for the kill on his sniper. He looks at his watch. It had been an hour and the target had still not arrived.  
  
He senses someone coming up right behind him, but his reflexes are quick enough to assume a position of defense. He takes his knife out of his pocket and unfolds it quickly. He turns around to see a familiar face only barely visible under the light of the rooftop doorway. The figure approaches him and he tries to determine the best way to attack. A closer look at the person’s face however lets him register and recognize the person as the same one from the alley two weeks back. The one who was watching him take down those three men.

The person didn’t seem to have any weapons on him. He lowers his knife just a few inches down. “It’s you. The guy from the alley.”

The boy takes a step forward, regarding him. “Seo Myungho, right?”

Minghao exhales in annoyance. “Shit, who are you? What do you want? I have a target on the move and I can’t miss him.”

“No you don’t, actually. That was me calling in a meeting with you.”

The guy smiles and takes another step towards him with a hand outstretched. “Wen Junhui, but you can call me later.” he smirks. Minghao’s annoyance _spikes_ at this and he briefly considers knocking him out to save both of them the time.

Nevertheless, this was a set-up and he probably needed to know what this guy’s threat was, if he had any at all. "Okay, I'm going to bite, and this is probably the only time i'm ever going to ask you politely. What do you want?"  
  
Junhui puts his arm down, the attempt at a handshake ignored, and shrugs nonchalantly, "Just to talk.”

"Just to talk." Minghao deadpans.  
  
Junhui nods and smiles cheekily.  
  
"You followed me around three districts—that was you, I’m assuming, you followed me around three districts, organized and paid for a shoot to kill order, and risked me maiming you with a butterfly knife tonight just to talk?"  
  
“Is that so hard to believe? Maybe you’re just that interesting of a person.”

Minghao stares at him blankly.

“Alright fine, gosh you’re so hard to please.” Junhui scoffs, but gets to the point anyway. “Base 17. We’re an espionage operation under Pledis Organization. I saw you fighting those men in the alley and thought about how much potential you have in you. So then, I’m going to make this quick and jump to the point. Do you want in?”

That’s what this was? A lame pitch to join some cutesy superspy organization? Minghao thought it over. Whoever they may be, they must have been both powerful enough to conduct business with the Triad and have the balls to do it too.

_But why me?_ Minghao couldn’t help but wonder. What made him so special that someone would take this big of a risk just to get to him?

“What makes you think I would want in?” was the question he settles on. “I already have a job, if that wasn’t clear to you already.”

“Oh? But is this really how you want to fight? That is to say, is this it for you?”

 “What do you mean?” Minghao frowns.

 “Will you let yourself be used as a weapon all your life?” Junhui looks at him knowingly and he hates it. Hates how transparent he suddenly feels.

 “If I do join your agency, who’s to say I wouldn’t be doing the same? Isn’t that what you want me for anyway?”

 “I’ve seen your line of work, you know. Making drug runs, taking out targets from a rooftop. But you’re wrong about us. We don’t intend to treat you like that. You’re a person, not a weapon.”

 Minghao almost laughs in disbelief. “How can you tell me that? Who are you to tell me what I am, and what I’m not? You don’t even know me.”

 “I’d like to, though. So maybe we can start here. What do you want, Seo Myungho? What do we have to give you to join?" he asks resolutely.  
  
"What I want doesn't matter. It's been that way my whole life. I don't want anything from you."  
  
Junhui cocks his head curiously, "Everyone wants something. Surely even you do."  
  
"Well, when I figure it out," his tone sarcastic, "You'll be the first to know." Minghao says, already dismantling his sniper and putting its parts back inside his bag. 

“Think about it.” Junhui reaches into his pocket and takes out a card. It had an illustration of a diamond on one side and some writing on the other. “Call this number when you’ve made up your mind.”

Against his better judgement, Minghao takes it.

 

**[Base 17, 11:15 PM]**

 

"Oh Seungkwan-ah, are you leaving?" Jihoon looks at his watch. “It’s late.”

Seungkwan nods, "Yes hyung. It's almost time."  
  
"Ah, the transfer. you're meeting him now, then. You know what to do?"  
  
"Yeah, HQ sent over the instructions to Junhui hyung and he already gave them to me earlier. I'll walk I think. It’s not that far anyway."

Jihoon nods at him and remembers something, "Oh yeah, about the asset recruit, we'll have a group discussion tomorrow. I want everyone to be there for this one. Including the transfer."  
  
"Sure. I'll tell comms later."

 

* * *

 

It’s two days later when he finds himself face to face with the gang’s head. He comes back to their apartment block from a weapon dealing, expecting to go back to his room and get started on fixing his drone, but was instead called back into the common room where the Dragon sits on the center of the couch.

"Dragon." he kneels and takes the Dragon’s hand, kissing the ring on his finger.

"How did your target go?"

Minghao hesitated. Should he tell? It seemed as if the boy from earlier–Junhui, was it? It seemed as if Junhui trusted him enough to keep it a secret.

And he hated that. He hated feeling the burden of carrying someone’s trust as if it was so easy. As if he hadn’t forgotten how to after all these years.

"It wasn't a target after all. It was some espionage organization trying to recruit me. They tricked us, paid you to organize a target for me so that they could make their pitch. They really want me to join their little agency or whatever."  
  
"Yes, it seems like they do." the Dragon ponders this for a few moments. “Organization you say? Which one?”

“Pledis, I was told.” Minghao responds quietly.

  
The Dragon hums in consideration. “I’ve heard of them. Small players, big potential. Crime rings and gangs tend to avoid them the most. They mean trouble to all of us.”

"What's my next move then? Do you want me in?"  
  
"It’s a risk, certainly.” he says thoughtfully. “But do I want you inside an agency whose database can be a terrific source of intel for us? It should be pretty obvious by now, shouldn't it?"

Minghao nods silently.

“How do you plan on making contact?” the Dragon asked.

He thinks about giving him Junhui’s card, the one with his details on it, but decides against it in the end. After all, he intended to make this gig as clean as possible, so the less casualties the better. He keeps it to himself. If it felt at all like betrayal, then he figured he could at least afford himself this one last freedom before he got initiated.

“Their representative set a place and time for me if ever I decided on joining.” he lies.

“Go now. Rest. When that time comes, tell them you decided to join. The less time we waste the better. I’m giving you 40 days to gather all relevant information. You are not, under any circumstances to kill, understand me? We don’t need an entire organization after us, especially not when they’re as powerful as Pledis.”

Minghao takes the subway crossing 3 districts over, where he’s sure no one in the gang makes runs. He looks for a phonebooth and dials the number on the card. As soon as the person on the phone picks up, he doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ve made my decision. Meet me by the entrance of the subway station in Hongik.”

 

It’s 45 minutes later when they meet again on one of the colder autumn nights in Seoul.

The smile Junhui gives him when he tells him is almost enough to make him feel guilty about doing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom boom era is long over and this has been sitting in my drafts for too fucking long omg sorry guys 
> 
> but hey i thought i'd post it anyway so here it is,, take it if u even still want it

Four days later, Minghao has all of his things ready, packed inside one backpack. It was quite light for something that carried everything he owned. It had a few clothes, undergarments, an extra pair of shoes, his toothbrush and his winter jacket. Practical, he thought, never having the luxury of time to frequently go out and buy new things for himself. He notes that majority of the bag's weight however, came from his helicopter drone as well.

  
  
It's been almost five years, he thought. So much time had passed, and yet, everything still felt like a really bad dream. It still felt like he was just trying to wake up from all of it. Sure, his current lifestyle was a lot better than living on the streets, and he wasn’t about to be ungrateful about it, but sometimes he wondered what it would have been like if he never ended up here...if he stayed in China and somehow followed his dream to become a dancer. It seems so laughable now, considering _this_ was his life.

 

  
Deciding not to let it bother him any further however, he hitches up one strap of the bag on his shoulder and walks out of the building, making his way to the station. He pulls out a black mask and puts it on, both as a commodity and security precaution.

 

  
The train ride is short, city lights bouncing off the glass panels on the train’s windows. On the seat beside him, a little boy gives him the paper crown he just made, and he takes it and nods in polite gratitude. And if he cracked a small smile at this, well at least no one will ever know, with the mask obscuring his face.

 

 

“Put it on!” the boy said excitedly. Minghao looked around making sure no one was paying attention, and sure enough he met the bored faraway looks of the commuters around him. He slips the crown on his head where it fit a bit too tightly, but enough to keep in place.

 

 

Sure, he was a killer but he wasn’t _heartless_.

 

 

The boy gives him a huge grin and goes back to his seat beside his mother. The boy’s mother nods at him and gives him a grateful smile.

 

 

An electronic voice crackles overhead announcing his station. He gets off on the platform, caught in the mass of people pouring out of the train.

 

  
Rush hour. Noise. Minghao hid in the noise, loved it for how easy it was to get lost in.

 

  
He meets Junhui in the Gangnam terminal, looking like a manhwa protagonist while leaning on a column beside a vending machine with that ever-present smirk on the corner of his mouth. Minghao inwardly scoffs at the sight. Junhui spots him and he sees that smirk grow exponentially wider. "All set, are we? Nice crown you got there." he says, eyes playfully fixing on Minghao.

  
  
Minghao meets his gaze, unamused and wordlessly adjusts his backpack strap where it's slipping off his shoulder. He takes the crown off his head and folds it, keeping it in his bag for safety.

 

  
Instead of backing down, Junhui just snickers and ruffles his hair, getting set to leave the station. Huffing, Minghao blinks the hair out of his eyes and follows him out of the terminal.

 

 

When they get to the sidewalk, there’s a light drizzle overhead, and Minghao curses, lifting his hood up. It’s bearable for a few minutes until the drizzle turns into a shower. Junhui appears instantly beside him, umbrella already opened in hand. He steps closer to him, holding the umbrella over the both of them, effectively shielding both of them from the rain. It was the portable kind of umbrella, meaning they had to huddle closer together to fit underneath it. Minghao transfers his bag to his front to keep it from getting wet.

 

 

On their way to the base, Junhui takes the opportunity to talk his ear off about mindless things like pranks the base agents play on each other or a new song he listened to recently. Minghao is mostly just in between irritated and amused at his ability to sound like an entire run-on sentence.

 

 

“The base will love you for sure. I think you’d get along well with Seokmin, and of course Soonyoung too, they’re like a package deal. Oh, and Seungcheol hyung would be so psyched for a new member- well two new members actually--someone new also came in a few weeks ago. And Chan, oh boy, Channie’s gonna love you. You might just steal his ‘coolest hyung’ title from-”

 

 

“I have a question.” Minghao interrupts.

 

 

Junhui blinks in disorientation from Minghao’s sudden interjection, “Sure, hit me.” he says, a bit surprised.

 

 

Minghao side-eyes him carefully, “Why do you have to make it sound like we’re dating and I’m meeting your family.” As soon as Minghao utters those words, he regrets them immediately because of the way Junhui smiles at him coyly.

 

 

“Dating already, huh? Guess we skipped the one-sided-but-not-really-pining part? Not even friends to lovers? I guess I _am_ just that irresistible.” he teases.

 

 

“You’re going to trip if you keep walking like that.” Minghao simply says, frowning at the way he was walking backwards just to keep teasing him.

 

 

Junhui shrugs his warning off easily and continues to walk like that, until he falters on a step and almost trips. Fortunately, Minghao’s reflexes were fast enough to catch him in place before any damage was done.

 

 

Minghao glares at him as he straightens the both of them up on the sidewalk. Junhui simply grins at him and continues walking as if he hadn’t just almost fallen over like an idiot.

 

 

They finally reach the place and before going in, Minghao looks up, praying to any deity out there that whatever this organization’s database had was worth it.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, with briefing, tours and introductions made, Minghao tries to settle down in the dorm areas, following Jeonghan around for instructions.

  
  
"Myungho-yah, I hope it's alright if you'll be rooming with Seokmin and Soonyoung? Originally, you were supposed to be Vernon's roommate but Seungkwan moved out of this one and took the vacancy when it was available."

  
  
Minghao shrugs, "Fine, I guess. Why, what's wrong with them?"

 

 

"Well, they're a bit...noisy when they go to bed." Jeonghan trails slowly. Minghao's eyes widen in panic, about to ask if he could stay on their common area couch instead. 

 

 

_What exactly did he get himself into?_ he thought.

  
  
Realizing what he'd just implied, Jeonghan backtracks. "Oh no god no not like that. Cheol would kick them out to the streets if they ever tried that. Here. At least." he coughs awkwardly.

 

  
"So, what did you mean then?"

 

  
Jeonghan shakes his head fondly, "They're the couple that coo at each other before falling asleep. Pillowtalk and all that jazz. It'd almost be endearing if only it weren't so disruptive. Sometimes they like pretending to be old people and would yell at each other before going to sleep. Seungkwan would throw oranges at them from his bunk until they'd stop." Jeonghan paused. "Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that helped his target accuracy by a huge margin."

 

 

Minghao clears his throat and responds, interrupting Jeonghan from his thoughts. “Um well, yeah I guess I’m fine with that. It doesn’t really take much for me to fall asleep.” He figures that he probably shouldn’t make the situation a bigger problem than it is anyway.

 

 

“Great, well Shua and Mingyu will be here by tomorrow morning so you can meet them by then. For now, just get some rest, you must be tired.” Jeonghan smiles at him gracefully and bids him a good night.

 

 

Minghao enters the room, quietly in case his new roommates were asleep. To his surprise, only one of them was sitting on the edge of the lower bunk. Soonyoung, if he wasn’t mistaken, gets up and greets him, welcoming him to their room.

 

 

“Guess we’re roommates now.” Soonyoung smiles at him brightly. “Seokmin’s still in the workroom with Jihoon. He’s just wrapping up with Mingyu’s case. Debriefing and everything.”

 

 

Minghao nods, acknowledging him, but doesn’t say anything else. He settles down on the lower bunk of the unoccupied bed, adjacent to Soonyoung and Seokmin’s.

 

 

“Do you need any help getting settled?” Soonyoung asks, lingering nearby. Minghao shakes his head politely, telling him that there wasn’t much to unpack anyway.

 

 

Soonyoung smiles and goes back to his own bunk, reading a book and presumably waiting for Seokmin before going to bed.

 

 

“Knock knock,” Junhui greets from the outside as he opens the door a few minutes later.

 

 

Minghao pauses from unpacking on his bed, looking up at the doorway and Soonyoung waves to Junhui cheerfully. He waves back and turns to Minghao.

 

 

“All good here?” he asks. Minghao responds curtly in affirmation. Junhui nods and lingers at the door.

 

 

“Did you need anything?” Minghao asks after a few seconds.

 

 

“Yeah, just checking if you’re up for a sparring match tomorrow? It’s for gauging combat skill and training strategy. Base procedures.”

 

 

Minghao shrugs, “I guess, I mean you guys tell me what to do now, right? I’m just following your orders.”

 

 

Junhui frowns at that. He didn’t want Minghao to think that the Base was just another group of people who’d tell him what to do. That was part of the reason why they’d recruited him. Soonyoung looks at him and catches this same concern on Junhui’s face.

 

 

Soonyoung pops his head out from the bottom bunk and smiles at Minghao brightly, “Well, no not really, Myungho. We want you to be comfortable here, so as long as it’s within reason, you get to make your own calls about your personal training procedure.”

 

 

Minghao looks taken aback by this, and Junhui smiles at Soonyoung gratefully. There was, after all, a reason why Soonyoung was second in command at battle strategy.

 

 

He makes up his mind and nods, “Yeah, tomorrow’s fine with me.”

 

 

“Good. Well rest up, we’ll need you at your full potential tomorrow.” Junhui says, bidding him and Soonyoung a good night shortly after. He’s already about to close the door, when Minghao realizes something.

 

 

“Wait, which one of you am I fighting?”

 

 

Junhui pauses and grins at him widely.

 

 

“Me.”

 

* * *

 

The sparring match was set in the afternoon. The rest of the base clears out from the training room, and Soonyoung pushes a button that lowered a metal divider to keep the training equipment and weapons away from fighting range as a safety procedure. He smiles at Minghao and wishes him a good luck on the way out.

 

 

They stand across from each other, in standard starting position. Both bring their hands together in front of their chest, with the left hand opened and the right hand balled into a fist, signifying the start of the match.  

 

 

Minghao charges towards him, performing a spinning kick in the air, only narrowly missing his chest. Junhui dodges his attack and uses the momentum to catch one of his legs and alter the direction of Minghao’s kick.

 

 

Minghao tumbles to the floor, using his hands for support instead, pushing himself with enough force to launch him into the air, allowing his legs to latch onto Junhui’s torso. He uses the force of the blow to throw Junhui off his balance, and both of them fall on the mat, Junhui tumbling forward, quickly pushing himself off the floor, and Minghao rolling to the side, using one of his hands to stop and regain balance.  

 

 

MInghao charges again, crouching down to deliver a low sweeping kick, hoping to knock Junhui down from his feet, but Junhui is faster and jumps up before his leg reaches him, and kicks Minghao square on the chest. He loses balance and falls backwards, but catches himself on his hands.

 

 

He stands up once again just in time to cross his arms together to block a kick from Junhui. Minghao redirects the momentum to push back against him, and Junhui stumbles backwards on the ground. Junhui gets up using his leg strength, and is back on his feet within seconds. The run toward each other and Junhui jumps, catching Minghao’s neck in between his legs, and uses his weight to flip them over.

 

Minghao momentarily tumbles down on the area of the room without the mat covering and grazes his arm on a crack in the wooden floor, scraping it badly. A drop of blood trickles down his arm. He hisses in pain, but lets the rush of adrenaline take care of it for now. He gets up again and goes hand to hand against Junhui.

 

They dueled in perfect balance, with neither one tiring out or relenting to the other. Punches and jabs and dodges were thrown until Junhui administers the supposed final blow, which Minghao manages to block. Junhui’s eyes widen in surprise because, at the angle he threw that jab, it should have been impossible for anyone to block. But there Minghao was, arms crossed in front of his own offensive stance.

 

They stay in that position for a while, panting heavily while trying to catch their breaths, until Junhui puts down his arm, and Minghao follows suit.

 

They go back to their original corners of the room and gulp down a great deal of water. Once sated, Junhui crosses over to Minghao’s side, water bottle in hand.

 

“Are you alright? Sorry, I think I went a little too hard on you. Can I see that?” He points to the spot on Minghao’s arm that he was carefully prodding.

 

“I’m fine, it’s just a scrape. I’ll just pour rubbing alcohol on it.” Minghao says, studying his own injuries.

 

“Wait, are you telling me this is how you tend to your wounds all the time?” Junhui questions with a horrified look on his face.

 

“Yeah? To prevent the infection.” he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Junhui clucks his tongue disapprovingly, “You fool. Rubbing alcohol is abrasive and can kill your white blood cells when you apply it directly.”

 

“Oh.” he simply says.

 

Junhui walks over to a nearby cabinet, and pulls a big box out of it. He walks back and sits on his heels beside Minghao. He opens it, revealing an extensive collection of first aid items, and tears open a packet of cotton.

 

He takes Minghao’s injured arm gingerly in his hands, but it’s quickly yanked away after a second. Minghao visibly winces and Junhui gives him a scolding look. Minghao offers him his arm again and he takes it, lightly pressing the sterilized pad of cotton on the scrape.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Minghao asks quietly.

 

“You’ve never had your wounds treated before?”

 

Minghao looks at him oddly, “Why would I? I do it myself.” If there was anything that the mafia taught him for roughly five years, it was self-efficiency. If he was capable of licking his own wounds after getting himself in trouble, then he would. “Give me that.” he gestures to the cotton pad.

 

“Ha, yeah sure. Can you even reach it?” Junhui replies, unrelenting. Minghao frowns and grabs the cotton from him, trying to twist his arm to get a better angle at it.

 

This proves to be a mistake when he ends up crying out in pain. He looks back at Junhui bashfully, and gives him the pad back in silent apology. Junhui raises an eyebrow, unimpressed but wordlessly continues to work on Minghao’s injuries.

 

Minghao sits back and lets him clean the abrasion. It was...different, having someone tend to him like this. He can’t remember the last time he’d sat back and had someone take care of him. _A glaring contrast from the mafia_ , he thought. Sure, there were people he could joke around with, but he was only good as _useful_ to them. No one wanted him around to take care of or pay emotional attention to. It just didn’t work like that. As far as he was concerned, he was only a spare tire in the machinations of the crime ring.

 

He sits there tired, and just watches the gentle swiping of cotton on his skin. And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel so alone. He lets himself feel cared for, lets himself feel _okay_. When Junhui finally finishes and patches him up with gauze, he gets up and extends a hand to Minghao to help him up as well.

 

Junhui throws a gentle arm around his shoulder, ruffling his already messy hair.

 

“Welcome to Base 17, Xu Minghao.”

 

Minghao’s throat tightens, and he tries not to feel the bitter sting of eventual betrayal.

 

* * *

 

 

From the base’s workroom, a surveillance feed on the training room is pulled, showing Junhui and Minghao’s sparring match on the screen. Jihoon and Seungcheol sit at the front of the desk while the rest of the base squeezes on the workroom’s couch, or stands near it. They all huddle to observe the monitors.

 

As per Junhui’s instructions, no one could watch the match in person because of how violent it might get. The training room was big, but the new recruit’s skills were still undetermined; not exactly raw, but pretty unrestrained. There was no telling how unhinged his capability for violence was. Right now, it wasn’t like they could fully trust him immediately either.

 

They watch the match on Jihoon’s multiple screens, yelling over each other in reaction to what was happening. At some point they get so loud that Jisoo has to restore order and remind them that the training room was just down the hall and the walls weren’t soundproof.

 

Their eyes stay glued to the screen until the two fighters deal a draw to the match. Jihoon turns around from the screen and looks at Seungcheol. “What do you think, hyung? It’s your call. Should we keep him?”

 

Seungcheol looks back, smiling at Jihoon with an excited glint in his eyes. “Let’s keep him. It could be good for our manpower. I’ve never seen anyone deal a draw with Jun before.”

 

The room mutters in collective agreement, and Jihoon nods, preparing the data on his tablet.

 

“More importantly,” Seungcheol says while studying the screen again, “I think Junhui’s finally met his match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u kno when u forget to reply to a text and when u actually do remember to reply it's already too late and replying at that point would feel rude,, yeah 
> 
> also kudos+comments fuel me,, please let me know if you want me to continue this or just abandon it forever

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: the research i did on triads are of the bare minimum. i didn't wanna poke around too much since it wasn't the main focus of this story so some of the details on this might not match up with how triads function irl
> 
>  
> 
> you can hmu on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/schadenfreudes) for questions or updates on this series!
> 
> thanks to yanna and [natashass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashass) for putting up with me on this


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